


Love and Hate

by lov3islov3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lov3islov3/pseuds/lov3islov3
Summary: There's truly very little difference between love and hate, something Harry doesn't realize until he finds himself staring at his "treasure" in the black lake, and it's someone he would never have expected.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 192





	Love and Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first try at writing a fanfiction, so I hope you like it, and thank you for choosing mine to read! It's a short Drarry dabble, because I was thinking that the world needed more of those.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the Harry Potter universe and are not my own

“Harry Potter needs to hurry!” squeaked Dobby. “The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter -”

“Ten minutes?” Harry croaked. “Ten-ten minutes?” Panic flooded the boy and a quick check to his watch confirmed what Dobby was saying. His neck ached, and his vision was blurred, but Dobby’s words shot right into his brain like a curse, jolting him out of his exhausted stupor. He glanced around the library, where he was slumped in a chair, then returned his gaze to the elf in front of him. 

“Harry Potter must go!” Dobby exclaimed, and started tugging on Harry’s robes.

“It’s too late,” Harry replied, to which Dobby shook his head. 

“Harry Potter will do the task!” squeaked the elf. “Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!”

“What?” said Harry. “But you don’t know what the second task is -” 

“Harry Potter must save his treasure!” Dobby squeaked, and tugged Harry off of the chair. From where he was now sprawled on the floor, Harry stared at the elf in confusion. 

“What’ve I got to do?”

“You has to eat this, sir!” the elf cried, and drew out a ball of slimy, grayish-green mush that looked suspiciously like rat tails from his pocket. “Right before you go into the lake, sir- gillyweed!”

“What’s it do?” said Harry, staring dubiously at the gooey substance in his hand, thinking that he very much did not want that anywhere near his mouth. 

“It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!”

“Dobby, are you sure?” Harry asked hesitantly, remembering the last time Dobby had tried to help him with the rogue bludger. 

“Dobby is quite sure!” said the elf earnestly. “Dobby hears things, sir. He is a house elf. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom… Harry Potter must go!” Dobby exclaimed, and Harry’s doubts vanished. Jumping to his feet, he strode out of the library and broke into a break-neck run, dashing through the halls and past the few stragglers in the entrance hall. He was running out of time. He had to get down there. 

“Good luck, Harry!” Ron exclaimed as soon as he made it down the path to the lake. Breathing heavily, Harry nodded at his friend, sparing a second’s thought to where Hermione could possibly be, then dashed down to where the other champions were waiting, watching him with amused, disapproving expressions. 

Percy shot him a disapproving frown and started voicing his thoughts and Bagman waved him off, allowing Harry to catch his breath. He panted, full of energy and adrenaline but with a sharp stitch in his side. He bent down with his hands on his knees, painfully aware that he was about to dive into the lake wearing his heavy school robes. I hope you were right, Dobby, Harry thought, but he really didn’t have time for doubts. 

Harry spared a glance to the packed stands, scanning through the crowd for familiar faces. He could see the Weasleys easily enough, but Hermione was still missing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that… someone else was gone, someone important. 

“Sonorous!” shouted Bagman, pointing his wand at his throat, and his voice boomed out over the lake. Harry shook his head, returning to the present and focusing on what the man in front of him was saying. 

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!” And he blew the whistle with a blast that echoed through the stadium. The other three jumped into action, and Harry stuffed the gillyweed in his mouth, chewing madly. His throat seemed to prevent him from swallowing the sticky stuff, and he gagged around it as he waded into the water, trying to drown out the laughter coming from the stands. 

It was like a switch was flipped. The plant landed in his stomach and his vision changed, his breaths felt constricting. Harry looked to his hands, which were lengthening and changing, felt slits appear in his throat. What? He thought, and shut off the rest of his thoughts as he dove headfirst into the lake. 

The water was a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with bubbles that he gulped down greedily. Harry shoved off his outer-robe, enjoying the weightless feeling that engulfed him once it was gone. Plants and small fish moved around his ankles, and Harry kicked them off gently, using his fin-like feet to glide forward. 

A narrow scrape with the grindylow sent him onward with a more cautious approach, listening to the mermaid-song that lulled him downward toward his target, whatever that may be. 

Harry knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the four bodies tied up, hair trailing behind them in the water, bubbles flowing out of their noses. One for each champion. He frowned as his confusion deepened, staring at the four. Cho, Hermione, a girl with blonde hair who Harry had to assume was Fleur’s sister, and… Draco Malfoy. 

That didn’t make any sense. Why would Malfoy be down here? It was obvious that Cho was there for Cedric, and he would deal with his mixed feelings on that later, especially since he could tell that one of them was not jealousy. The girl would be here for Fleur, which left Hermione and Draco. No, Malfoy, Harry corrected internally. 

A noise caused him to jerk his head up, and he met Cedric’s gaze. The other boy cut Cho free and started dragging her up to the surface, only after informing Harry that he should leave, and now, and shooting him a sympathetic smile. But Harry couldn’t leave, he was too confused. Hermione was there for him, right? Because the other option made no sense- But why would Draco be Krum’s treasure?

When the massive shark that revealed itself to be Krum’s head swooped down to take Hermione, Harry’s confusion turned to anger and panic. He had to be nearly out of time, and … somehow, Dumbledore must have confused intense hate for love, because it appeared Harry had to rescue Draco Malfoy. 

Trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, Harry grabbed the arm of the blonde boy, fired angry bubbles at the mermaids- who scattered- and pulled Fleur’s sister to the surface. The two barely weighed him down, but as he neared the surface, he felt something change. It was getting hard to breathe, his feet were shrinking, his vision was going black… And he kicked through the surface, gulping in deep gasps of air. Fleur dashed down to the edge of the lake, grabbing her sister, but Harry stayed in the water, staring at Malfoy, who was staring back, disgusted, angry and … something else?

No. Harry dashed from the lake, tripping over himself in a rush to get to Ron and Hermione. No, no, no, he repeated furiously as an angry buzzing filled his head. Ron handed him towels, looking faintly horrified, and Harry snarled at him. “Not one word. Don’t,” he instructed vehemently, and his friend nodded, though his mouth was set in a firm line that told Harry he would be hearing about this later. There was nothing to tell, really. Dumbledore must have made a mistake.

Scores were awarded, which placed Harry in second place, and tied for first overall with Cedric. But he couldn’t even allow himself to feel proud, because he was so, so confused. Draco Malfoy?

Harry walked back up to the castle with Ron and Hermione next to him, and together, the three of them managed to escape before the questions caught up with him. Just as well, Harry really was not in the mood to talk to anyone. 

When the three got back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron led them into the fourth year boys dorm and sat on his bed, arms crossed. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, and Harry shook his head strongly.

“It was a mistake. Please don’t say anything,” Harry wasn’t sure why his voice was coming out with such a nasty tone, but he did know that he needed the questions to stop. His friends stared at him for another few moments, and Harry glared right back, until Hermione sighed deeply. 

“Oh, fine,” she muttered, and the two of them stood and walked out of the room, leaving Harry dripping wet, confused, and angry. But he shouldn’t be confused, right? It was a mistake. 

***

A restless night had Harry waking up for his lessons cranky and irritable, with a pounding headache that, for once, had nothing to do with his scar. He hadn’t been able to move without incessant questioning yesterday, regardless of the fact that he threatened to curse everyone who came near him and that he didn’t know what was happening, himself. He was certain that there was one way to resolve this, and that that would be to talk to Malfoy. Unfortunately, that was also the one thing he was very unwilling to do.

He ate breakfast moodily in the Great Hall, aware of the eyes on him, but this time it felt different than usual. And he knew that if he spared a glance in the direction of the Slytherin table, there would be one set of eyes staring holes into him that he just didn’t want to deal with, not now nor ever. 

“Come on, Harry. Cheer up, we’ve got potions soon,” Hermione said, and Harry laughed, then winced at how dull it sounded. 

“How is that supposed to cheer me up?” he asked, and the girl shook her head. 

“Not what I meant, but you need to do something. Either deal with the source of the problem or let it go, but no more brooding.” And she was right, Harry decided as they walked into the dark classroom. He would do something about it. 

Harry was barely able to concentrate throughout the entire class period, which allowed Snape to do what seemed to be his favorite thing - deduct points from Gryffindor. He was too busy thinking about Malfoy, and dwelling on Hermione’s words. Deal with the source of the problem. 

His opportunity came right after class, when Malfoy shoved against him on his way down the corridor. Harry grabbed his arm harshly and pulled him aside, glaring. “What is your problem?” he shouted, and the blonde rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, sorry. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little champion’s fragile feelings, might make- what was it? His eyes glisten with the ghost of his past?” Malfoy sneered, quoting Skeeter’s article in a mocking tone. Harry felt anger flit through him as he replied. 

“Better not let Moody hear you talking like that, I hear he’s got an opening for a new pet ferret,” Harry replied. The other boy’s grey eyes darkened angrily, and he shoved Harry into the wall forcefully. 

“You think you’re so special, don’t you, Potter? Well you’re not, you’re just a bloody fool,” the blonde hissed, his voice going dangerously low as he pushed his arm across Harry’s chest. Harry was aware of his heart pounding viciously as the two boys glared at each other, not saying anything as heat and rage swirled around them. 

Harry didn’t know which one of them moved first, but suddenly Malfoy’s lips touched his, hard and angry and intense, and Harry growled, a guttural sound coming from his throat as the other boy attacked him with a fiery passion that Harry felt far too often when dealing with Malfoy. Too late, he realized that Dumbledore wasn’t wrong, but that Harry had been all along. The firey feeling that boiled his blood and sped his heart whenever he saw the blonde wasn't hate. It was love. Somehow, he had gotten so terribly confused and had wasted so much time hating.

Malfoy’s lips continued moving against his own as he teased Harry’s bottom lip with his tongue. Harry moaned, then bit Malfoy’s lower lip gently, and the kiss continued, hungry and desperate. It was like the magical beauty hearing phoenix song, like the hot adrenaline rush from winning a Quidditch match that left Harry feeling like he could do no wrong. It was angry and hot and messy but it was perfect, and Harry never wanted it to end. Something so wrong shouldn’t feel so right, but Harry knew nothing had ever been more meant to be. 

Suddenly, Malfoy released the front of Harry’s robes and backed away slowly, eyes dark and smoldering. His lips were red and his hair was dishevelled, as were his robes, and Harry loved that he had been the one to make the usually perfectly put-together boy look like that. He offered a faint smile as he turned away and strode away from Harry. The green-eyed boy stared after his retreating form, confused and yearning, knowing that whatever had just happened, he had to do it again.

He was late to his next class, and sat down next to Hermione without a word. When she shot him a very pointed look, he whispered, “I dealt with the source of the problem,” and turned his attention to McGonagall’s lecture, ignoring Hermione’s questions as he tried, but failed, to hide the wide grin on his lips. 


End file.
